


Art Lies *edited*

by Just_a_simple_trash_can



Series: Art Thief AU *Edited* [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Art Thief AU, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Reference to Child Abuse, Smut, conversations about the uncle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 10:23:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19249252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_simple_trash_can/pseuds/Just_a_simple_trash_can
Summary: The DeVere brothers are smart, cunning and beautiful. Everyone’s type of man. And the world’s biggest art thieves.





	Art Lies *edited*

**Author's Note:**

> This is a full edit of the original fic that I posted. I read through this a few weeks ago and found a lot of things that I wanted to fix. I’m a little happier with this version and I’m hoping the rest of the series will work out just as well.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and thank you to everyone that left comments on the original fic. They are so much appreciated and I was so happy to read all of them after working on this series. I hope you enjoy this version just this much.

 

The meeting room was cramped and hot. Almost twenty officers stuffed into a room with no air conditioning in the middle of one of the hottest Akielon summers in history spelled trouble. No one walked out though, no one wanted to. The FBI never had a good relationship with the police stations in Akielos or Vere so the fact that they were asking the DPD for help with a case caught the interest of just about everyone.

Nikandros only knew the basics of the investigation. Art pieces from Vere and Akielos had been stolen and while the feds knew who was doing it, the thieves were always one step ahead and either disappeared before they could get caught or found their way out of police custody. The investigation was mostly kept under wraps, the feds not wanting anyone to know that they couldn’t catch two art thieves, but they seemed to be getting desperate. Nikandros couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction knowing that the men and women with one of the highest powers in law needed the help of a police station on the border of Akielos and Vere.

The double doors of the meeting room swung open, attracting everyone’s attention. The scattered conversation stopped suddenly, filling the room with an eerie, uncomfortable silence. Captain Makedon Varela walked into the room, a grim look on his face. Without a word, the captain walked over to the projector, already set up for the presentation.

“Believe it or not,” he began. “The golden son is the one in control. Auguste DeVere is far more dangerous than any one of you could ever believe. His brother is just as much of a threat, but Auguste is the brains behind each operation. His brother is the one who puts them into action. Both of them appear to be combat and hacking specialists among other talents. Clearly, they are not trained just for stealing art pieces. We need to be prepared for anything that the DeVere brothers may be planning. There’s a reason they’ve gotten away every time they’ve been caught.”

Everyone knew the DeVere’s. Aleron DeVere had been the smartest lawyer in Vere and his wife, Hennike, had been a widely known composer. Cancer took Hennike’s life at a young age and heartbreak, or what was believed to be heartbreak, took Aleron’s life a few years later. All of the family’s money had gone to Aleron’s brother who for safety reasons, remained unnamed. Perhaps the brothers missed the rich life and wanted it back by any means.

The doors opened once more and three men in several thousand dollar suits walked in.

“We apologize for our lateness,” a man with a Veretian accent said. He was the tallest of the group, his hair straight and smooth with a face that hadn’t smiled in years. The man next to him had combed back black hair with a more relaxed expression. The third didn’t look a day over twenty. 

“As long as you’re here.” The captain turned back to the officers in the room. “The FBI has asked for our help to take in the DeVere brothers. I will let them take control for the moment.”  _ For the moment.  _ To send a message that this was still his police station and nothing was going to go past him without approval.

The man who had spoken before took a step forward and grabbed the remote. “I am Special Agent Jord Dumont. This is my partner, Special Agent Orlant Leroux. And this is Nicaise Pierre, a rookie officer investigating the case with us.” The projector clicked and the slide on the screen changed to the mugshots of the brothers. “Auguste DeVere. Age 35. Laurent DeVere. Age 27. Both are wanted for art theft, breaking and entering, evading police, assault on a police officer, and escaping police custody. We’ve been chasing after them since Auguste was twenty-seven and he stole his first art piece worth three hundred thousand dollars as far as we know. It’s possible that he was stealing far before then but that was his first known appearance. Three years later, Laurent, the younger brother, joined him. Somehow, these two have been evading us for almost ten years. Usually, art thieves steal well-known pieces of art and disappear. Sometimes they get away with it and sometimes they get caught. The DeVere brothers differ in that they keep appearing. It’s a pattern that we didn’t find until about five years ago.” A timeline appeared on the screen. “Three times a year they spend an entire month stealing art pieces. After the month is up, they disappear. It’s why we’ve been having such trouble catching them in the act. That and they somehow always escape police custody before they get into a cell. We were able to take them in once, but a man shot off a gun in the police station they were taken to and in the chaos, they escaped. We have reason to believe that these two are not working alone, but they are the brains behind every operation. They take out the cameras, they choose what art pieces are stolen, and they make the distractions and diversions. They are somehow constantly two places at once when the art pieces go missing which have led us to believe that they have a team.” The slide changed again to a picture of the brothers at a gala, no disguises in sight.

“They are both, in the eyes of everyone who has seen them, very attractive,” the captain said and he was right. They were attractive. Either one of them could flutter their eyelashes or give an empty compliment and their target would be putty in their hands. “They are smart, cunning, and dangerous. They can easily manipulate anyone that they come into contact with. They have been doing this work for a long time and know a lot more than any of you do. If we are going to catch these two, I need my best officers on the job. I need to know that the people I put on this case won’t fuck up and let them get away. I trust each and every one of you and I need to keep that trust. These two are a menace to society and they need to be dealt with as soon as possible.” The slide changed to an advertisement for an art show happening in Marlas. “We think that they’re going to target here on Friday. I’m going to need two officers to go undercover and see if they can’t distract the two of them long enough for us to make an arrest.”

Damen raised his hand and called out to his captain. “Nikandros and I have this taken care of.” 

The captain nodded. “I hoped that the two of you would volunteer. You have always kept your eyes on the target and have never failed me before. Meet me in my office later and we’ll talk over your identities and how to go about the arrest. I’m trusting you two to stay focused on the mission. This is our one chance at getting the upper hand on the DeVere’s and we can’t let them slip through our fingers.” 

Nikandros gave his friend a side glance and frowned. The DeVere’s were exactly Damen’s type if his ex was anything thing to go by. Blonde, threatening, and beautiful. Nikandros grabbed his arm and pulled him close.

“Hey,” he hissed. “Clearly you don’t know yourself as well I do.”

“It’ll be fine,” Damen whispered back. “My job comes first. You know that.”

“I’m just saying. Look at them.”

“You’ve got to learn to trust me, Nik. My job is far more important than a quick fuck. I’ll have you by my side, too. You’ll keep me in line.”

“You put far too much trust into me for me to trust you even a little.”

Damen just clapped his shoulder and looked back at the slide presentation.

“You two,” Special Agent Dumont said. He looked directly at them with a threatening glare in his eyes. Any rookie would have faltered under that gaze, but Nikandros stayed strong. No fucking fed was gonna scare him straight. “These two aren’t just some pretty faces. They’ll put a bullet in your head the second they get the chance. Do not fuck this up.”

***

Nikandros stood in the middle of the gallery, a glass of champagne in his hand and a cold, bored expression on his face. Almost immediately after the pair arrived at the art show, Damen suggested that they split up to cover more ground and walked away before Nikandros could argue.

Nikandros couldn’t even pretend that he liked art. He was only there to arrest the DeVere’s and he wasn’t even sure that they were going to show up. He didn’t want to make conversation with anyone there and make himself look like an idiot in front of people who knew a lot more about art than he did. It was suspicious, though, to just stand around and people watch so he began to walk through the gallery, keeping a close eye on any blondes that he came across.

He eventually stopped in front of an art piece that caught his interest. It was a young woman painted in black and white surrounded by color. In her hands was a bouquet made up of various flowers. Nik spent a few moments admiring it when someone next to him spoke.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a smooth, charming voice hummed. “What some people can do with just their hands and imagination… It’s a true shame that art and artists aren’t more widely appreciated. I wish I had this kind of talent.”

“Everyone is unique in their own way,” Nikandros answered, as casual as he could. “Some people can learn languages in a few weeks and some can create an entire world with just a few words.” He pursed his lips. “Someone is envious of the talents you have in the same way that you are envious of this artist.”

“Wise words. Do you know the meaning behind this piece?”

“Isn’t that the point of art? To not know what the artist meant? To interpret the meaning in your own way without ever finding out the answer?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. Had I not known better, I would assume that you were an expert. This piece is actually one of the few out there that has a meaning. It was created by a young man who made it for his girlfriend. She was depressed, but always made sure that everyone around her was happy. She was an inspiration to her friends and her family and the artist was in love with her. Unfortunately, on the night he was planning on proposing to her, she was in a car accident and passed away from her injuries. He created this in memory of her. About a year after this one became very popular, he painted a sort of continuation of this one where his girlfriend and himself were standing on opposite sides of the painting, separated by a gap, like they were on two separate islands, miles away for each other. They reach for each other, but can ever make it.”

“Poor man,” Nikandros said. “I couldn’t imagine losing someone that way. How is he?”

“He keeps to himself mostly. I don’t believe that he’s moved on. I’ve considered trying to find him, but no one seems to know who or where he is. Just look at the name of the artist.” 

Nikandros glanced at the plaque underneath the painting. “There isn’t one.”

“I don’t think he wants anyone to mourn for him. I don’t blame him. I don’t know what I would do if I lost someone I loved.”

“Loss is difficult for anyone. People mourn in different ways.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

_ Don’t give personal details, _ he thought.  _ Don’t let him have anything he can hold against you. _

“No,” Nikandros answered. “But a friend of mine lost his mom at a young age. His dad passed a few years ago and I stayed with him to make sure he was alright. It was hard on him. He could hardly leave his house.”

“Losing your parents is very difficult. It was certainly hard for my brother and I. My parents passed when I was a teenager, but my brother was still a child. He didn’t understand was death meant.”

Nikandros finally looked at the stranger. The hair could have fooled anyone, but it was the eyes that got him. The DeVere’s both had stunning blue eyes that stopped people in their tracks. Nikandros looked back at the painting and cleared his throat.

“Are you a big fan of art?”

“I began to admire it when I was a child,” Auguste DeVere answered.  “My mother painted when she got sick and could no longer work. She spent most of her life working with her hands, so I suppose it was just something to keep her hands busy. Art helped me see the world in a different light.” DeVere tilted his head to the side, as if he was looking at the painting at a new angle. “What about you? What does art mean to you?”

“I was dragged here by a friend who ended up ditching me once we got here.” That was as personal as he would get. Only a few people had ever gotten this close to either of the DeVere’s. He couldn’t fuck this up. He just needed to distract DeVere enough for the others to make an arrest. “He came because a crush of his is presenting a series of paintings here.”

“Then would you like to get a drink with me?”

“That’s not a good idea.” It was an idea though. There was no telling what DeVere was capable of or what he was willing to do to escape. Getting him somewhere quiet and secluded may be his best chance. “But I think my friend wouldn’t mind if I bought a drink for a kind stranger.” 

DeVere held out his hand with a smile. “My name is Auguste.” He was confident that he wasn’t going to get caught. Nikandros couldn’t screw up this opportunity. The brains behind the DeVere heists was right next to him. 

Nikandros shook his hand. “Damien.” 

“A pleasure to meet you.” Auguste kept a hold of his hand as they walked out and with his free hand, Nikandros sent a message to Damen.

8:47 PM To Damen: Found one. Keep in touch. Rendezvous outside of gallery at 11 

***

Nikandros woke up the next morning unable to move his left hand. It felt like dead weight, meaning that whatever had happened to it, it had been happening for a while. With his free hand, Nikandros rubbed his eyes, the previous night’s events running through his head. He met DeVere. They went to the bar across the street. They had two drinks each. DeVere had been flirting with him since they left the gallery. DeVere invited him back to his hotel room. He still had an hour before he would meet up with Damen. He had the time.

It was a stupid fucking risk. Nikandros assumed that DeVere would be exhausted after they fucked and he could make the arrest then, but Nikandros had fallen asleep almost immediately after they had finished. Why? He couldn’t say. 

With the sleep rubbed out of his eyes, he looked up and saw DeVere pacing back and forth in front of the bed, holding Nikandros’ badge and shaking his head.

“Fuck,” Nikandros swore. He tried to jump out of the bed only to find that his left hand wouldn’t  _ fucking _ move. Both of the cuffs from his handcuffs had been clamped around his wrist, the chain wrapped around the pole on the metal bedpost.

“Detective Nikandros Delfeur,” he sighed. “I had a sneaking suspicion, but I still took the chance. It’s unfortunate. I really enjoyed last night.” DeVere tossed Nikandros’ badge on the desk next to his phone and wallet. Nikandros didn’t remember taking anything out of his pocket the night before. DeVere stood at the end of the bed, looking at Nikandros like he was prey. “Don’t worry. We’ve already made the rest of your team think that we got the upper hand on you. You found me and your friend found Laurent and you took us to some place you thought would be secluded. Unfortunately, we had men everywhere in the gallery and you were knocked down the second you were alone. You two were brought up here and locked in these rooms until we were ready to leave. It’s a shame though.” He slowly walked over to Nikandros and gently ran his thumb along the detective’s jaw. “I was hoping that I could coerce you over to my side. We could do so much with those muscles of yours.” He shook the chain of the handcuffs and smiled. “We could go about this one of three ways. One, you could keep trying and failing to arrest us and we could keep this song and dance up until one of us dies. Two, you could admit defeat and focus on far more important cases. “Or three-” DeVere leaned down and brushed their lips together. Nikandros forced himself not to reciprocate it. “You could join us.” The captain was right. Auguste DeVere was dangerous. So beautiful, but so fucking dangerous.

“You’re not worth losing my badge,” Nikandros hissed out. But god he might be.

DeVere sighed, his thumb barely brushing against a scar Nikandros had on his stomach.

“And you’re not worth going to prison.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Nikandros’ jaw. “You know I’m the only thing that stand between you and getting out of this bed.”

“You’re not getting away with this, you fucking incubus.”

DeVere let out a dry laugh. “But it looks like I am. I’m not the one handcuffed to the bed.” 

Before Nikandros could respond, a faint beep filled the room and the door to the room opened. The younger brother walked in, barely looking in Nikandros’ direction before turning back to his brother.

“Lazar is waiting for us,” he said. “We need to go.” Even at the angle Nikandros was at, he could see a hickey just above the collar of the younger DeVere’s shirt.

“And what about the other officer?”

“He’s still in bed. He’ll be waking up soon, which is why we need to leave.”

“Good. Let’s go then.” DeVere took the handcuff key from his pocket and tossed it onto the bed, just out of Nik’s reach. “I’m sure you can figure your own way out.” He grabbed a bag off of the floor and followed his brother out the door. 

Nikandros tried to reach for the key the second the door slammed closed, but his fingers could only brush against it. He let out a swear and pulled against the chain as much as he could, the metal of the cuffs digging into his wrist. His finger ran along the edge of the key and with another attempt, almost breaking his wrist, his fingers finally wrapped around the key and with nothing less than desperation, he removed it and ran into the hallway. It was empty save for a business card on the floor. Nikandros wasn’t an idiot; he knew that it belonged to DeVere. 

“Fuck,” Damen sighed. Nikandros turned around to find his friend fully dressed, but completely exhausted.

“Fuck doesn’t begin to describe it.” Nikandros picked up the card and handed it to Damen. “That’s all we got out of this. Let’s make it count.”

***

The lie was enough to keep Damen and Nikandros from losing their jobs. Nikandros told the captain the bare minimum of what he had learned from Auguste and continued his investigation. At that point, he had to be the one to put DeVere in cuffs. He had fucked up, he was man enough to admit that, but he wasn’t going to screw up again.

Damen, as Nikandros would find out, didn’t sleep with the younger DeVere. They had come close, but hadn’t gone as far as Nikandros and Auguste had. The two of them had fallen asleep in the same bed and with the DeVere’s prizes in safe keeping and no chance of getting caught, Laurent found the information he needed on Damen to have some leverage and made the plan to leave. Nikandros and Damen had the same plan and they both underestimated the brothers by miles.

Several high value art pieces had been stolen from the art show in Marlas, the total almost reaching two million dollars. Despite all the work they put into their investigation, they couldn’t figure out when or where the brothers would strike next.

They looked at every museum located in Vere and Akielos and looked into all of the art shows that could be possible targets. None of them seemed to have anything that the brothers would target, but Nikandros knew very well that wasn’t the case. The DeVere’s knew that they would make that assumption and that’s why they were going to target even the smallest of museums. The problem was Vere and Akielos were both countries of art: Vere was known for paintings while Akielos was famous for sculptures. There was no way to narrow down where the next robbery would happen. They traveled too far in too little time, somehow seemingly able to get across the country in a day.

“We can’t focus solely on Vere,” Pallas said at one of their meetings. Nikandros had spent a majority of the meeting reading the same file no less than fifteen times. He had barely heard Pallas speak. “Nor Akielos. They’re constantly switching between the two so they can’t be tracked.”

“We can’t underestimate them,” Damen said. “They know what we’re planning somehow and we can’t let them send us on a wild goose chase.” 

Nikandros just looked over the photos scattered across the corkboard in the room and sighed. “Let’s start from the beginning,” he said. “Make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

Damen and Pallas looked visibly defeated but still moved to look back at the DeVere’s first attack.

***

Nikandros walked into the lobby of his apartment complex, tired and pissed. It was almost midnight and despite working for almost forty hours straight with little sleep, they were no closer to finding the DeVere brothers or locating their next target. There hadn’t been any word of them since the robbery of a museum in Sicyon, two weeks after their appearance at the art show in Marlas. By the time Nikandros and Damen had gotten there, the brothers and their team were long gone. Three paintings, a marble statue, and a collection faberge eggs were stolen. There hadn’t been any sign of a break in and the cameras had been turned off before anything could be caught. Typical DeVere behavior.

“They’re toying with us,” Nikandros had said as they drove back to Delpha. Damen just stared out the windshield, keeping his attention on the road. “They can’t resell half of this shit. They’re doing to just to screw with us.” Nikandros looked over Damen who had been mindlessly nodding along without really listening. “Damen? Any input? At all?” It took Nikandros only a moment before he let out a frustrated sigh. “Damen, you could not possibly be thinking about him.”

“No differently than how you’re thinking about Auguste. As a criminal and…” Damen gestured with his hand. 

“Believe me, I’m trying to forget about it. You held back, I should have.”

“They’re smarter than we thought. Neither of us blame the other for what happened. From now until we have one or both of them in an interrogation room, we won’t be alone with them.”

“Deal.”

That was the decision they had made. Neither of them were going near the DeVere’s alone if they could help it. Nikandros’ career wasn’t worth a pretty face and a nice fuck. 

Nikandros walked to the door of his apartment and took his keys out of his pocket. He slid the key into the lock only to find that the door was already open.  Cautiously, he pushed the door open and reached for his handgun. The lights inside were still off, but something was amiss. 

With his hand still on his gun, Nikandros ran his hand along the wall until he found the lightswitch. Light filled the room and at first glance, nothing was different. It wasn’t until Nikandros caught sight of a painting on his wall that he realized something was wrong. It was of a girl in black and white, surrounded by color and holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Don’t worry,” DeVere said. “It’s a copycat. The real one is still at the gallery.” DeVere walked out of the hallway wearing a simple dress shirt and pants. He still wore that cocky smirk on his face.

“The faberge eggs. The marble statue. Where are they?” Nikandros quickly glanced around the room as he spoke.

“You’re rather quick to get to accusations. Who’s to say it was me?”

“Don’t play stupid. We both know that it was you.”

DeVere smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “No camera footage. None of you saw me. No one can say for sure if it was me.”

“Not going to take credit for this one?” Nikandros had to be careful. One wrong more and it would be Marlas all over again.

“Admitting it would be a death sentence for me.”

“We already have piles of evidence against you. It’s over.”

DeVere walked closer, causing Nikandros to step back. “You thought it was over last time and look what happened. What’s to say it won’t happen again. I can be very convincing. You’re more than aware of that.”

“Things are different now.”

“Oh? How so?” Nikandros pulled out his gun, aiming to take a shot. DeVere dodged impossibly quickly, kicking the gun out of his hand. Nikandros dove after it, barely missing DeVere’s next attack. He couldn’t see it all that well, but DeVere was holding something and Nikandros wasn’t about to get close enough to see what it was. 

DeVere picked the gun before Nikandros could get close, but Nikandros was able to grab DeVere’s pant leg and pull him onto the ground. DeVere landed hard, allowing Nikandros to have the upper hand. He climbed on top of DeVere, flipping him onto his stomach. 

“Auguste DeVere,” Nikandros started as he reached for his handcuffs.  “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of-“ He was cut off by DeVere slamming the back of his head into Nikandros’ face. As he tried to regain his senses, DeVere pinned him to the floor, the handcuffs falling uselessly to the floor.

Nikandros didn’t hesitate and slammed his knee into DeVere’s stomach. That was enough to knock DeVere onto the floor. He took his chance and handcuffed Auguste to a leg of the dining room table. He struggled, with no avail, and glared at Nikandros like a child. Ignoring him, Nikandros took out his radio and called in the incident. “This is Detective Delfeur. I need to report a break in at my apartment. The suspect is Auguste DeVere and he has been apprehended. He is-” A gunshot cut off his call and before Nikandros could react, he was hit in the jaw. In his confusion, DeVere ran out, the door slamming closed behind him. “Shots have been fired,” Nikandros continued, on the wrong side of disoriented. “I am in pursuit. Suspect is possibly armed and dangerous.”

***

DeVere ended up escaping. He had a car waiting for him down the block from Nikandros’ apartment. No matter how the night had ended, whether or not they ended up fucking again, DeVere had an escape plan. The effort was getting tedious and Nikandros was almost prepared to toss in the towel and give up. DeVere was too smart and at that point, he knew how to get under Nikandros’ skin. If he was going to continue working this case, he couldn’t be alone. There was no telling what could happen and Nikandros wasn’t willing to take the risk.

Of course that’s what he told himself.

Nikandros sat at his desk, pouring over the paperwork and evidence from the robbery at Sicyon, when his phone rang.  Out of habit, he unplugged it from its charger and answered with, “Detective Delfeur.”

“I’d like to offer a parley.” Nikandros’ eyes widened and he turned towards Damen. He began to call out when DeVere continued, “I would suggest you don’t do that. This is a throwaway phone and this call won’t last long enough for you to trace it.” 

Damen looked up from his desk and gave his friend a confused look. Nikandros simply made a cutting throat gesture and walked into the hall that was empty except for an officer who was talking with a young, crying woman.

“What do you want now?” It had been two weeks since the break in at his apartment and he hadn’t heard from DeVere since then.

“I’m making this call on a disposable phone, but this conversation will continue in person.”

“You're oddly confident of that.” Nikandros could hear DeVere rolling his eyes.

“I’m going to text you my address. I want you to come here tonight at ten unarmed and alone.” 

“Like fucking hell.”

“There is something that you need to know if you’re going to continue wasting your time trying to catch us. You just have to promise that this conversation will just be between acquaintances.”

“We are not acquaintances.”

“You’re absolutely right,” DeVere said. “We’ve fucked. Acquaintances is far too formal.”

“Fuck you.” Nikandros moved to end the call.

“Awfully hard stance for someone who didn’t believe a wooden table could be broken.”

Nikandros stopped his hand, his jaw tightening. “You shot it. Of course it was going to break.”

“I could have shot you and I didn’t.”

“But you would have,” Nikandros countered.

“Really? Are you sure about that?” 

Nikandros didn’t answer. He instead looked up and down the hall to make sure that no one could overhear their conversation. The officer was gone and the young woman was packing away her things. “What are you planning on telling me?”

“There’s a bigger risk than me in Vere. You need the information I have and I need your men.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Nikandros ended the call before DeVere could say anything more. The “what if’s” began to weigh down on him. There was a mile long list of reasons why Nikandros shouldn’t go to that apartment alone, number one being that he promised himself he would never be alone with DeVere again and number two being the fact that he could very quickly and very easily lose his job if anyone were to find out. 

He wasn’t going.

***

He went. He told himself not to. He knew that it was a stupid idea that wasn’t going to end well for anybody. He was more than aware of what would happen if he did go. Nikandros didn’t like either of the options so he told himself not to go.

But there he was, like an idiot, risking his life and his job for a wild goose chase. DeVere was a lying son of a bitch and everything he said needed to be taken with a grain of salt. And yet here Nikandros was, standing outside DeVere’s door. If DeVere was telling the truth just this once, Nikandros could finally have the upper hand, but if he was lying...Nikandros didn’t want to think about that possibility.

The door to DeVere’s apartment was opened a crack. Not even a chain lock in place. DeVere trusted him far too much.

DeVere stood at a bar at the edge of the living room. In his hand was a decanter filled with either whiskey or bourbon. Nikandros was still in his work clothes but DeVere had clearly made himself comfortable, wearing only a pair of yoga pants. His hair was in a tight braid that hung over his shoulder. From where Nikandros was standing, he could see a tattoo on DeVere’s hip. Something that he couldn’t read from where he was standing. There was another tattoo running down DeVere’s spine.

“You came,” DeVere said, holding out a glass to Nikandros. “I didn’t think you would.” 

With the new angle, Nikandros could see a heart tattoo above DeVere’s own.

“Do you really think I’d take anything from you?” Nikandros replied, his voice tight. DeVere shrugged and drowned the drink before refilling it. Nikandros took the drink, still not completely positive that it wasn’t poisoned. “The tattoos are new.”

“They aren’t actually. I got a new one a week ago. They’re too easy to recognize so I cover them up whenever I go out.” ‘Too easy to recognize.’ Coming from the man that introduced himself with his real name and didn’t bother disguising his appearance when he went out. 

DeVere ran his fingers along the tattoo on his heart. “This one is for my parents. I got it a few years after they died.” 

“And the one on your hip?”

“Latin. Ama et quod vis fac. Love and do what you want.”

“How fitting,” Nikandros snorted.

“I have Laurent’s birthday on my wrist and my newest one is on my back.” DeVere turned, allowing Nikandros to see the tattoo along his spine.

“Music notes.”

“The piano notes for a lullaby my mother sang to me when I had nightmares.”

“I expected you to have some ironic artsy tattoo just to fuck with me.” 

DeVere let out a laugh and turned back around. “I’m glad you came.”

“There’s a reason you invited me over and there’s a reason I’m risking my badge.” 

DeVere sighed and gestured for Nikandros to follow him. They walked into the main area of the living room where DeVere went straight for the balcony. He stood by the door and just stared outside. “I really do love this apartment.”

“DeVere.” 

DeVere let out another sigh. “Despite the lack of evidence, I would bet every dollar I own that my father was murdered.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with what you wanted to tell me?”

DeVere simply waved his hand. “When he died, I had already lost my mother. I was nine when she passed; Laurent had practically just been born. He died of a heart attack when I was thirteen. He was thirty-nine when he died. What healthy thirty-nine year old has a heart attack?” Auguste’s grip tightened on his glass. “We were sent to live with my uncle. He physically abused me when I stood up to him and tried to protect Laurent. When I was fifteen, he put me on a one way red eye flight to Ios alone. I didn’t get reunited with Laurent until he was eleven. My uncle brought me back when I was nineteen and threatened Laurent’s life if I didn’t sign over our inheritance.

Nikandros moved to cut him off, to get some actual answers, but he didn’t. Something kept him from doing so.

“There was a knife pressed to Laurent’s neck. I had no choice but to say yes. I was broke and completely under his control. I was allowed to move back into the house because I was no longer a risk and Laurent avoided me at all costs. I knew, though, that my uncle was abusing him. Physically, mentally…” DeVere’s voice had gotten rougher, more angry. “You don’t understand how much I wanted my uncle dead. I tried to go to the cops but his best friend was the chief of police and my accusations fell on deaf ears. When Nicaise came into the picture, I was twenty-three, Laurent was fifteen, and Nicaise was eight. I drew the line at the first bruise I saw and went straight to the captain at the department.”

_ Nicaise?  _ Nikandros thought. The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t place how or why.

“He got arrested,” DeVere continued. “And that scumbag of a chief lost his job, but we didn’t get any of the money. At the time, I didn’t care. I was just glad the two of them were alright. We lived on the streets for a while, as far away from that house as I could get us. It wasn’t easy by any means, but I stole enough to get us by. To make sure that the two of them were fed and had clean clothes. Anytime I was caught, my looks and charm kept me out of a jail cell.” He glanced back at Nikandros who hadn’t moved. “Sound familiar?” He turned back to face the balcony doors. “The art thief itself started when I was twenty-seven and Laurent was eighteen. I convinced him to take classes online so he could at least have a diploma. When he wasn’t taking his classes, he tutored Nicaise while I went to find a stable job. I actually applied to work at the first museum I robbed, but very quickly found how easy it was to break in. No security that gave a shit, outdated cameras, broken locks and windows. It was too easy. I waited a few months until I gained everyone’s trust and snuck in during the middle of the night. I stole one of the art pieces at random and sold it a week later. With the money, I moved the three of us into an apartment under a fake name and alias. Eventually, I told Laurent what happened and he wanted to help. Of course I told him that I was the only was who was going to take the risk of going to prison. The money was good, but it wouldn’t last forever.” DeVere stopped for a moment, looking down at his empty glass. “Then one night, he followed me out and showed me how quickly he could disarm the more advanced cameras. I didn’t want him to take the risk, but even I had to admit that I needed the help. It was the two of us for a while until we started hitting bigger targets. Nicaise worked as our diversion while the men we hired to do the heavy lifting did their work.”

“Nicaise,” Nikandros said. The name finally hit him. The rookie the feds had brought with them. DeVere smirked. “Son of a bitch. That’s how you’ve been ahead.”

“Fucking with Jord is the best choice I’ve ever made in my life.” DeVere put his glass aside. “Nicaise stayed in contact with us while he went through the academy and gained Jord’s trust. One sob story about how Auguste and Laurent DeVere had screwed him over and he was immediately under Jord’s wing.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I should.” He didn’t, but he wished he did.

“But-” Auguste turned and walked back over to Nikandros. “-You think I’m beautiful.”

“I never said that.”

“But you’re thinking it. I can see it on your face.”

“You’ve got the money,” Nikandros said. “Why do you still do it?” DeVere kept changing the conversation. He was evading. If Nikandros was getting information, he was getting all of it.

“My uncle was bailed out of prison,” DeVere continued. He crossed back over to the bar and refilled his drink. If Nikandros wasn’t mistaken, DeVere’s hand was shaking. “Someone rich and powerful decided that he wasn’t guilty, that abusing children wasn’t a good enough crime to get a life sentence, and he got out. He still has power and I need to be on level ground with him. He needs to know that I’m coming for him.”

“Is that a death threat?”

“It’s a threat. I’m taking it back. All of it. The money, the properties, the childhood he stole from the three of us and if he dies in the process, I won’t be upset.”

“And then you give back the art?” Nikandros said. It was a longshot but...

DeVere nodded. “The pieces that I haven’t sold.”

“Then you disappear off the face of the earth.”

“You’ll never see me again.” DeVere put his glass on the coffee table and walked closer to Nikandros. Nikandros didn’t move this time.

“What’s the truth?” he asked, keeping his eyes level to Auguste’s.

“I’m sending him straight back to prison or putting him six feet under no matter what I have to do. After that’s all said and done, I walk right out of your jurisdiction.”

“Figures.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty face. I’ve got enough money to last me for the rest of my life. Once that bastard is out of the picture, the art thieving stops.”

“Does it.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m not planning on doing this for the rest of my life. I can’t do this forever.” 

“You’ll be on the run for the rest of your life.”

DeVere waved his hand. “Jord will lose interest after I disappear.”

“I won’t.”

“No, you won’t.” DeVere played with a loose string on the shoulder of Nikandros’ shirt. “You want to see me behind bars.”

“You’re goddamn right I do.” 

“You’re aware of the fact that I think you’re attractive.”

“Is that why you’re constantly screwing with me?”

DeVere smiled. “One of many reasons. Another is that you’ll hear me out. If Jord ever finds me, it’ll be shoot and ask questions later.” DeVere simply shrugged one shoulder before turning away. “You could go if you’d like. That’s all I had to tell you.”

That could  _ not _ be it. “You said that your uncle was a risk. Why do you need me?”

“When I find him, I need you and your men there to get him back in cuffs. He’ll have a gun to my head, believe me. I just need to know that you’re willing to help.”

Something didn’t seem right. There was something DeVere wasn’t saying. “Where is he now?”

“I’m sure he’s still in Arles somewhere, but you can’t do anything until I can confront him. The only reason this conversation didn’t happen over the phone was so you wouldn’t be able to trace the call.”

“But you gave me your personal address, assuming that I wouldn’t come back here with backup.” Nikandros noticed that DeVere had suddenly tensed up. “You’re slipping which means you’re hiding something. I’m not leaving until I find out what.”

DeVere turned to face him, his glare was harsh. He was breaking. Nikandros was getting somewhere. “Of course you aren’t. Don’t make things more difficult than they have to be.”

“Difficult? What does that mean?” 

He didn’t say anything.

“DeVere.” 

“Get out.” The sharpness in his voice was unexpected, but Nikandros didn’t move.

“Something changed.” Nikandros moved closer to him. “From the time you made your call to me to when I showed up, something changed.”

DeVere began shaking. Nikandros had done enough interrogations to know when someone had reached their breaking point. “ _ Get out _ .”

“Something went wrong,” Nikandros continued. “The plan changed. You’re no longer in control.”

“Nikandros-” 

That was when Nikandros spotted a letter that had been thrown to the back of the bar. He looked between the letter and DeVere before reaching for it. 

“Don’t-“ DeVere started as Nikandros’ fingers wrapped around the envelope. 

There was no return address on the envelope. There wasn’t even a delivery address. ‘Nephew’ was scrawled in the middle in place of one. Nikandros pulled the letter out, his eyes darting across the paper. Orders. Threats. Accusations. Nikandros’ name was listed twice, once as a general introduction and the other next to the sentence, ‘Don’t make me put a bullet in his head’. 

“You were never in control,” Nikandros said. “It’s been your uncle since day one.”

“It was my uncle up until about a year ago,” DeVere hissed, his nails digging into the wood of the bar. “That’s when I told him to fuck off and I took Laurent and Nicaise and left. Everything else is true. I know that he killed my father and he abused the three of us for years. There are some things that you don’t need to know but he has been using Nicaise and Laurent as collateral against me for years. It doesn’t matter how old they are; they are my brothers and I would die for them and my uncle knows that he can use that against me. He has power and he will not hesitate to stop anyone that stands in his way.”

“What could he do to them that you couldn’t do to him?”

“Kill them.” DeVere stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not a murderer,” he choked out. “I’m a thief. I can’t bring myself to kill someone, not even him. If someone does it, fine, but I can’t. That’s not who I am. He will kill me though. Maybe Laurent and Nicaise too if he feels like it. He doesn’t like plans being ruined or interrupted. That’s why you’re in the letter. That’s why you’re a part of this now. He found out that you were involved and thought that if he threatened you, I would give in to his demands.” DeVere made direct eye contact with Nikandros. “He will put a bullet in your head if you get any closer and I will not let any more innocent people die because of me. I’m asking for you this, Nikandros. Forget about this case. Forget about me. Get as far away from all of this as you can. I don’t want you involved and I don’t want you dead. Do not try to challenge him. He will win every single time and someone will end up hurt.” DeVere pulled away, turning his back to Nikandros. “You should go. I shouldn’t have even told you this much.”

“I’m not backing out of this-” Nikandros started.

“Don’t,” DeVere snapped. “Stay the fuck out of this. This isn’t a joke anymore. Innocent people will die. Innocent people have already died. We both know that you don’t like me, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you dead. You’re the only one who knows about my uncle and you’re the only one at risk. Forget I exist. That’s the only thing that’ll keep you alive.”

Before Nikandros could say more, DeVere pushed past him, storming down the hallway, out of sight in seconds. Nikandros looked down at the letter again with a sigh and shoved it into his pocket. He left the apartment as quietly as he could and walked back down to his car. On his way down the stairwell, he called the first number on his speed dial.

“Damen,” he said once the ringing stopped. “I have a theory. Meet me at the station in twenty.”

***

Three weeks later, Nikandros found himself standing outside DeVere’s door once again. He could have called or sent a letter or decided to say fuck it and not tell him at all, but he didn’t do any of those things. He drove himself to DeVere’s apartment and walked to his door. Something was nagging at him to have another conversation with DeVere.

Nikandros raised his fist and knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again, louder this time, receiving a muffled yell in response. DeVere opened the door with a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands, drying his hair. He had a new tattoo on the right side of his chest. A gold lion in a circle of red. 

“Nikandros.” DeVere didn’t look happy in the slightest. Nikandros didn’t falter.

“He’s in custody,” he started, keeping his eyes on Auguste. “Richard DeVere. He wasn’t using an alias. Cockiness runs in the family it seems. He didn’t think he was going to get caught. Damen and I have been investigating for almost a month. We found several cleared pedophilia charges because the victims never testified. Others have come forward, though. New and old. They’ve told us everything. What he’s done, what he’s still doing, who else has been hurt. Police started the search three days ago and they found him this morning trying to sneak out of Arles. More investigations are being done on him. He’s not hurting anyone any more.”

DeVere- Auguste stood in silence. He stopped drying his hair, the towel just laying in his hands. Confusion could be seen in those impossibly blue eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he backed into his apartment and gestured Nikandros to follow him. The smart thing would have been to put cuffs on him now that he had the chance, but things were different now. Not entirely different, but different nonetheless. He would wait.

Auguste had already gone back down the hall by the time Nikandros walked in. Nikandros moved to the couch and sat, somehow knowing that this wasn’t going to be a quick conversation.

Out of habit, he texted his sister the address of the apartment building, something he did when ever he was in a possibly dangerous situation. He knew very well that he could take Auguste in a fight if it came to it, but there was no telling if Auguste was alone in his apartment.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Nikandros asked as he saw DeVere walk back into the room.

“It could have been more convenient.” Auguste brought over two drinks and placed one in front of Nikandros. Nikandros took one sip before grabbing Auguste and pulling him into his lap, kissing him before he could stop himself. It was a surprise to both of them. Auguste had always initiated things before, making it a strange occurrence for Nikandros to be making the first move. 

Auguste’s fingers almost immediately found his hair and gripped it tightly, hands full of dark brown curls. It wasn’t long before he was straddling Nikandros’ lap. Nikandros moved one hand so that it dug into Auguste’s hip, his nails leaving indents. The other pulled at Auguste’s hair, moving his head to the side. Nikandros pressed his mouth against the blonde’s neck, biting and sucking several hickies into soft pale skin. He smelled like lavender, most likely from abody wash. 

“Take me to bed,” Auguste whispered, grinding their hips together. Nikandros had a choice at that moment. He could sleep with someone he swore to Damen, to  _ himself _ , that he would never sleep with again or he could walk out the front door and only see DeVere again when he was in cuffs. 

Nikandros made his decision quick and lifted Auguste without much difficulty. Auguste let out a surprised gasp, tightly wrapping his legs around the detective’s waist. 

Blindly, Nikandros stumbled down the hallway, keeping their mouths pressed together in a bruising kiss until Auguste gestured towards the only open door.

“Putting pants on was a waste of time for you,” Nikandros mumbled against Auguste’s mouth as he bit down on his bottom lip. They fell onto the bed, Nikandros quickly taking his position on top.

“If I had known you were coming over, I would have prepared better.”

“You should have expected it.” 

Auguste answered by unbuttoning Nikandros’ pants and sliding his hand under the waistband.

“Going commando. I’m impressed.” Auguste laughed. His smirk was dangerous, but Nikandros already knew that all too well.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Nikandros instead grabbed a handful of hair and pulled roughly, dragging a loud moan from Auguste’s throat. “Jesus, Nikandros. Just fuck me.”

“Be patient.” Nikandros kissed him again. It was messy and addicting, something that summarized Auguste perfectly. They clung to each other, nails roughly digging into skin and lips biting anywhere they could reach. There was no rhyme or reason to it. All of it was just for contact. For pleasure. 

Nikandros eventually pulled away, attempting to catch his breath. “Where’s your lube?”

“Let me up and I’ll grab it.” Nikandros reluctantly sat up, wrapping his own hand around his cock to get himself hard. He was already halfway there just from Auguste’s hand. 

As Auguste dug through his nightstand, Nikandros pulled off his sweats and pressed his lips to Auguste’s bare thighs. The bruises Nikandros had previously left had long faded. “We were rather unprepared last time-” Auguste said, laying back down. “-so I took the liberty of getting ones your size.” He handed a bottle of lube and a condom to Nikandros. 

“So you did suspect it.”

“I assumed that at one point or another I would get you in my bed.” 

Instead of answering, Nikandros kissed him, flicking open the bottle of lube.

Auguste ran his hands down Nikandros’ chest, carefully tracing the scar on his stomach. “Perhaps next time, we can switch positions.” 

Next time. Nikandros wanted to say there wouldn’t be a next time but he would be lying to himself.

He poured a gracious amount of lube on his fingers and lifted Auguste’s hips. Auguste rested one leg on Nikandros’ shoulder, allowing more room for him to work. His fingers ran along the hand that was digging into his hip.

Pressing a gentle kiss to Auguste’s chest, Nikandros brushed his finger against Auguste’s hole, slowly sliding it in. Their last time together, they hadn’t been nearly as slow or careful. For Nikandros, it was all about getting Auguste at his weakest point. For Auguste, it was a distraction. Either way, they had been too lost in each other to care about taking things slow. This time would be different. 

Nikandros slid in his finger up to the knuckle before pulling it back out. He pushed it back in as he began to set a pace.

“Nik, please,” Auguste groaned. “Just fuck me already.” 

Nikandros hummed, sliding in another finger once he knew Auguste could take it, but kept the same pace. “You need to learn to be patient.” 

Auguste ignored that, wrapping one of his legs tightly around Nikandros’ waist and flipped their positions with one quick movement. Nikandros froze for a moment, trying to process what had happened while Auguste just smiled down at him and poured lube onto his own fingers. “How did you do that?” he asked.

“Would you believe that I’ve had to wrestle myself out of police custody several times?” Auguste winked, leaning down and pressing his lips to Nikandros’ as he prepared himself. Nikandros let himself enjoy the kiss, moving both of his hands to Auguste’s waist. 

Auguste wrapped his free hand around both of their cocks, jacking them off as best as he could.

“Fuck,” Nikandros whispered. He pulled Auguste’s hand off of their cocks and intertwined their fingers together. If Auguste continued, Nikandros would have come far sooner than he would have liked. 

Auguste squeezed his hand, swearing as he slid another finger in. He was stunning. It was so fucking unfair.

“You know,” Auguste hummed through his moans. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About our first time. About our next time.”

“There won’t be a next time after this,” Nikandros hissed back. He was lying through his teeth.

“You keep saying that, but here you are. Even if we never fuck again, I’m always going to be on your mind.”

“Fucking incubus.” 

Auguste laughed, too angelic for him. He already looked a mess from Nikandros’ angle. Hair sticking out in every direction, lips bruised, face flushed, neck almost covered in hickeys. He looked fucking beautiful.

“Would you like me to ride you?” Auguste asked. “Or would you prefer to fuck me into the mattress?” 

“Mattress,” Nikandros answered without really thinking about it. His thoughts were a mess. “On your back.” Auguste listened, reaching for the condom and ripping it open.

“I really want to suck your cock,” he said, carefully sliding the condom onto Nikandros’ cock. He took the cock into his hand and covered it in lube, moving his hand slowly until Nikandros pinned his hands down. They looked at each other, both trying to catch their breath. 

Nikandros wanted to kiss him and never stop. He wanted to cover Auguste in hickeys and keep him in bed for hours on end. He wanted to do everything that he couldn’t.

He eventually moved his hands, keeping one intertwined with one of Auguste’s. Auguste wrapped his legs tightly around Nikandros’ waist, lifting his hips enough to give Nikandros some room. 

Taking his cock in hand, Nikandros lined himself up and slid his cock between Auguste’s thighs. He brushed the tip of his cock along the hole before pushing in. It felt good, just as good as it had the first time, far too good to be fair.

He began to set a pace, one faster than he had done with his fingers, but slow enough that Auguste could adjust to the sudden pressure. He wanted to fuck Auguste into the mattress and Auguste would want him to; he would just have to be patient.

“Losing your confidence?” Auguste teased.

“Shut up.” Nikandros thrusted roughly into Auguste in response, causing perfectly manicured nails to dig into his arm. 

“Do that again.” The request had been said breathlessly. Nikandros didn’t know how long he would last with Auguste speaking like that along with the contact itself. Nikandros thrusted into him again, getting a loud, begging moan in return. He did it once more before stopping and looking down at Auguste.

It was unfair. If things had been different, this could have been a weekly thing. They could be making out in a museum or Nikandros could fuck Auguste into his satin sheets until they were screaming each other’s names, but that’s not how things worked. Nikandros, or some part of Nikandros,  wholeheartedly believed that he could fall in love with Auguste if they hadn’t met in the manner that they did. Auguste was smart and beautiful and talented. Any man or woman would be lucky to have him and Nikandros had that chance right in front of him. A part of him was still considering arresting him. Another wanted to hold on and never let go. 

He began rolling his hips again, moving at a faster pace. He thrusted hard, trying his best not to finish too soon. Auguste’s grip on his fingers and hips tightened and he swore as Nikandros delivered another hard thrust before he could stop himself.

“Shit,” he whispered as Auguste said, “Do that again.”

“Are you sure?” Nikandros asked. 

“I’m begging you, Nikandros. Do it again.” Nikandros followed Auguste’s order and thrusted roughly again. Auguste met his thrusts, pulling Nikandros down to kiss him again.

“Christ, Auguste.” Nikandros couldn’t seem to recognize his own voice. He had heard himself in bed before, but with Auguste, his voice got deeper, almost unrecognizable. 

The pair continued at a quick pace, sharing messy kisses and clinging onto each other. Nikandros reached in between them and wrapped his hand around Auguste’s member, moving his hand at the same pace as his cock. 

“Nikandros,” Auguste moaned as he spilled across his chest and on Nikandros’ hand. While Auguste came down from his high, Nikandros thrusted in a few more times, biting Auguste’s neck and shoulder until he finished. 

Nikandros fell down next to Auguste, resting his head on the shoulder that he had just left a number of hickeys on. Auguste half laid on top of him and held on tightly.

“You seemed a lot more energetic the last time we were in bed together,” Nikandros said, mimicking Auguste’s snarky tone as best he could. 

“Shut up,” Auguste mumbled tiredly, curling up into Nikandros’ arms and letting himself fall asleep. Nikandros, against himself, kissed the top of Auguste’s head and closed his eyes.

***

Nikandros woke up to lips lazily pressing against his jaw and neck.

“No handcuffs this time?” he whispered, wrapping an arm around Auguste’s waist. The lips smirked and sucked on his neck.

“I considered it and decided that I wanted you in a good mood when I woke up.”

“Did you expect that I would be?”

“I hope you would.” The lips moved and pressed against his own. Nikandros leaned forward, pulling Auguste closer as he did. It felt strangely domestic. In that moment, they were lovers instead of enemies. Nikandros knew the truth though. They both did. Nikandros was being split in two and he didn’t know which side he wanted to listen to more. Nikandros pulled away as soon as his heart would let him and started to get dressed.

“I have to get to work,” he said, pulling his pants over his hips.

“You could stay,” Auguste hummed and god did he want to. 

“We both know I won’t.” Nikandros tried to convince himself that it was harder to say ‘can’t’.

“No. What we both know is that you could have left last night and you didn’t.” Nikandros felt his jaw tightened and he quickened his pace, storming out of the bedroom.

“Last night shouldn’t have happened.” Fuck.

“You damn well know that isn’t true.” 

Nikandros ignored him and walked down the hall to find his shirt. There was the sound of stumbling as Auguste followed him. “Try and convince me that you don’t feel the same way I do.” Nikandros continued to ignore him. “I damn well know that you feel something. You could have arrested me a hundred different times and you didn’t. You don’t like me, but you’re attracted to me. You were far too gentle to be anything else.”

“I didn’t arrest you because didn’t have evidence,” Nikandros argued. “I’m not about to let you slip through my fingers because the arrest wasn’t lawful and I didn’t have reasonable suspicion.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I’m not the bad guy here?”

Nikandros turned onto his heel to face Auguste who had only pulled on his sweats. Hickeys covered his neck and shoulders. “You  _ are _ the bad guy. You and your brothers and who ever the fuck else you work with.” 

“No,” Auguste snapped. “No, the bad guys are the sons of bitches that rob talented artists of everything they love and every penny they have. That art piece we saw when we first met? A curator approached the artist, offered him five hundred thousand dollars for his piece after it made its first appearance at an art show. The artist never saw a penny of it. The last thing that he had that connected him to the love of his life and he lost it. So I stole it back for him. He has it now, along with the money he deserved in the first place.”

“So what,” Nikandros snapped back. “You’re calling yourself a modern day Robin Hood. Steal from the rich and give to the poor.”

“Steal from the rich what they’ve robbed from the poor is more like it. I’m not calling myself a hero, but I’m doing a hell of a lot more for the people that have lost everything than a lot of other people have. I keep what I need to survive, the rest goes to whoever else needs it. Yes, I’m a criminal, but I’m not who you should be focusing on right now.”

“Not every single art piece you’ve stolen has been taken unlawfully.”

“No, but the pieces that weren’t taken unlawfully are just used to make the rich richer. People will pay millions for a work of art, millions that could be helping those in need instead of lining the pockets of the rich.”

“That’s another dilemma within itself that isn’t even in the same ballpark as my department. My job is to stop the robberies.” 

“And yet you spent a month without touching my case to arrest my uncle.” Auguste was on the verge of screaming. “I am so fucking tired of playing this game with you. Either we keep playing this cat and mouse game for the rest of our lives or you stay here and we don’t think about any of this. You can’t have both. I am not about to fucking be used for person gain or to be a quick fuck because of your sexual frustration.”

“You aren’t a quick fuck!”

“Then what am I? Look me in the eyes and tell me I don’t mean something to you.”

Nikandros didn’t have an answer for that. Here he was, seeing the real Auguste DeVere. No smoke. No mirrors. No manipulation or flirtation. This was him and he was hurt. He had seen the real Auguste, but only glimpses. Those few moments after Nikandros told him about his uncle, the last fight they had had at Auguste’s apartment, even the conversation at the art museum felt a little real.

Nikandros wasn’t in love with Auguste, but he knew that he could. It wouldn’t be hard. He wouldn’t even be angry at himself for it.

Nikandros turned on his heel again before he could say anything more and walked out the front door, ending…whatever that had been.

He sat in his car for a few minutes before angrily hitting the steering wheel and calling Damen.

“Where were you last night?” Damen asked. “You didn’t answer your phone and Lex said that you texted her an address. What happened?” 

“You up for drinks tonight?” 

Damen hesitated for a moment. “It’s Wednesday.”

“I’m going out with or without you. I just thought I would extend the invitation.”

Damen sighed. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“Usual place?”

“I’ll see you there.”

***

Nikandros sat in silence, hiding in a corner and waiting for the signal. It was past midnight and he was tired, but he had one shot and he wasn’t going to screw it up. Not again. 

“They’ve entered the building,” Jord said though his earpiece. “Everyone get into position.” Nikandros took a step out and signaled to the other officers in the room. He pressed his back against the wall until he saw the brothers walk into the door and straight for the decoy emeralds. Two officers moved out of the shadows, pointing their guns at the pair.

“Put your hands in the air!” Nikandros yelled as he and Pallas quickly moved behind the brothers. Before Auguste could move, Nikandros grabbed his wrists and put handcuffs on him. Auguste gave Nikandros a sharp glare over his shoulder that Nikandros did his best to ignore. Other officers were waiting outside to take the brothers into custody. Nikandros quickly handed Auguste over to the other officer and went to go find Damen who was standing next to one of the other patrol cars.

“How many cars do we have following them?” Damen asked Jord, who was just getting off of a phone call.

“At least three,” Jord replied. “Five if need be. We’re not letting them get away this time.” Nikandros closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Nikandros? Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Nikandros replied. “Just as long as those two see a courtroom.”

He ignored the tight knot in his chest and his heart as he walked back to his car.

***

The ride in the cruiser was quiet. Auguste had been staring out the window in silence since they had been taken into custody.

“How do you feel?” Laurent asked quietly, looking at his brother. “After seeing him?” Auguste just smiled sadly as he dug a key out of his back pocket.

“I’ll feel better out of these handcuffs.”

 


End file.
